


Saviours and saints

by truethingsproved



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, blood and violence but nothing graphic, montparnasse and enjolras are one and the same, not literally but oooooooh wouldn't that be fun to play with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truethingsproved/pseuds/truethingsproved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If one could eat sin Montparnasse would gorge himself until he rots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saviours and saints

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercuryhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [pray til I go blind because nobody ever survives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/685701) by [mercuryhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter). 



If one could eat sin Montparnasse would gorge himself until he rots. The world reeks of despair and in it he thrives; he is beautiful and terrible, his wings cut away by his own hand. He might have joined the boys at their barricade once had he any interest in saving a people he found more useful dead, but Montparnasse is an intelligent man and he doesn’t believe in putting up unnecessary fronts.  
  
That’s where everyone makes their first mistake. They see Montparnasse, glorious and debauched, and they let down their guard, because he is an angel. What everyone forgets is that angels are and always have been soldiers. He’s simply cut out the middle man; he is his own god. He serves none but himself.  
  
Their second mistake comes when they comfort themselves with the knowledge that he cannot be clever enough to get what he wants. Montparnasse is meticulous: his plans do not fail because _he_ does not fail. No man who does could hold the underworld of Paris with such strength and surety. The artist watches him hungrily and the man-made-angel-made-god lets him. Every lord needs his priests.  
  
Long fingers curl around a jaw accustomed to being clenched in anger and pry him open to lay waste to that stained flesh from the inside out. They stalk the streets of Paris under skies stained by pollution and war and he is Death, and they beg and scream and he conducts them like he would an orchestra. The city, she is a stage made for men like him.  
  
Wealth and fear cascade from his hands like sacrifices and he paints the grey sky red with blood spilled from his lover’s grasping teeth. The artist mirrors his death’s-head grin, a knife poised almost delicately against another angel’s throat—Montparnasse will not share his stage. “ _Permets-tu?”_  
  
What a priest this artist is, his brush replaced by the long strokes of a blade that has become his arm and his mouth stained by an altogether different wine.  
  
He shall permit it, and the streets will flood with the life of a thousand nonbelievers.

**Author's Note:**

> I might possibly do more with this but right now I'm just sort of rolling around in my love for the very idea of Montparnasse, glorious and terrible and a well-dressed murderer. Because Enjolras and Montparnasse are so similar and god all I want to do is make Montparnasse/Enjolras connections to Lucifer/Michael and if I start doing that we'll be here for days.


End file.
